


Out and About

by strawberriesandtophats



Series: No such things as stability (only flux) [8]
Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Coffee Shops, Multi, Period-Typical Homophobia, The benefits of fictional and real HEAs for lgbt+ folks being a part of the narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27151252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberriesandtophats/pseuds/strawberriesandtophats
Summary: It was the sort of golden autumn day that one only thought existed in storybooks.
Relationships: Sybil Ramkin/Havelock Vetinari/Samuel Vimes
Series: No such things as stability (only flux) [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1758511
Comments: 16
Kudos: 34





	Out and About

It was the sort of golden autumn day that one only thought existed in storybooks. Vimes had snuck out on patrol on his own, making the excuse that he was just going out for some lunch.

As this was a definite improvement on him not eating anything at all, his officers tended to make approving gestures at the sight of him going outside at that time.

He breathed in the crisp air, keeping an eye out for crimes being committed. His feet carried him forwards as he let his mind wander to the plot of the romance series that he was currently reading, which was full of slang that he had not heard in around forty years. And the sort of slang that was only used between certain kinds of people, so he had suspicions that he had a fair idea of what the author’s real name was.

Not that he was planning on hunting them down, no matter how much he wanted to ask about how the main couple were going to resolve their differences and finally get back together.

He found himself inside a small coffee shop, having ordered and sat down without noticing that he’d done so. The table in front of him was clean, the smell in the air better than it should be below heaven.

Vimes tried to smooth down what was left of his hair, deeply aware that he looked like a drowned rat. His hair refused to obey gravity.

He was looking over the dessert menu, thinking about the sheer variety of pies that could be made in the world when the door opened and a hush fell over the coffee house.

Vimes looked up to see that Lord Vetinari was walking towards him with a look in his eyes that suggested that he had many plans and that they included him.

“Commander,” Lord Vetinari said before Vimes could stand up, his voice so even that it would have made carpenters weep with joy. “May I have a moment of your time?”

“My lord?” Vimes asked. Fifteen years ago, he would have felt damn shifty, being approached like this. Eight years ago, he’d have been annoyed to be interrupted. But now he just felt curious, because it was rare that Vetinari sought him out like this.

Forty years ago, if a handsome Assassin student had smiled at him like that, Vimes was pretty sure that he would have straight up panicked. Possibly tried to escape out the window.

Boys like him didn’t talk to people like that. And people like that certainly wouldn’t treat him as anything but a disposable thing, to be thrown out in the morning. He was not someone you brought home to see your family.

But times had changed.

Vetinari’s grip on his cane was light, his eyes were clear and something about the way that he moved indicated that he’d had the sort of morning that had included more puns than usual. And he was looking around with every sign of approval, nodding politely at the staff and the wheelchair in the corner for guests.

“Have a seat,” Vimes told him, noticing just how much silver he could see in Vetinari’s intricately braided hair in this light instead of when they were inside the Oblong Office.

“Thank you,” Vetinari said, taking off his fine greatcoat. “I’ve heard that the coffee here is very good.”

The only reason that Vimes knew where he was currently located was because he was wearing his thin-soled boots and had the name of the coffee house on the menu. This had once been the cheapest hot-chair place in the city and he’d rambled in there for something that wasn’t Snouty’s porridge.

“I used to eat chicken soup here,” Vimes said, handing over the menu. “They put all sorts of vegetables in it, so I didn’t have to worry about developing scurvy.”

It had been good soup, the sort that had been simmering for a long time. He’d traded quite a few yellowed and bent romance paperbacks for an extra serving and perhaps more butter on his breadroll.

“Tell me that you are joking,” Vetinari said, putting his reading glasses on. He hummed in that way that Vimes had begun to recognize as a sign that he was thinking about how many times their paths could have crossed but had not.

“A little bit,” Vimes said, accepting the coffee that the waitress put down with great care on the table. As well as the slice of lemon pie. It had meringue on top of it.

“Hm,” Vetinari said, the same spiky sound that he made when he’d overheard someone imply that the only reason that Vimes had gotten as far as he had in life was because he’d spent quite some time on his knees.

Vimes poured the contents of the sugar bowl into his coffee.

“A cup of coffee, if you would be so kind,” Vetinari told the waitress, who curtsied nervously instead of nodding. “As the popular romance series that you’ve been reading is causing such an uproar among our city’s wealthier families, I thought that I should speak to an expert.”

Ah yes, because it depicted a relationship between a Lance-Constable and the youngest son of gentleman, the first novel ending with their elopement. A prince and pauper story, opposites attracted to each other, all that old-school stuff. But between two boys.

“On romance novels?” Vimes asked, his cup half-way to his lips. “I’m sure that there are literature teachers around. And cooks and housewives and engineers and-“

“Sam,” Vetinari said slowly. “The slang being used is extremely specialized. Much of it has changed beyond recognition, some phrases have disappeared almost completely. A good portion of it is jargon that only existed within the Watch, as I understand it. And then only between the younger members, most of which left the city and stopped using it as a part of their everyday speech.”

Vimes sipped his coffee.

It was sweet and strong.

Vetinari pulled the paperback out of his greatcoat, opening it on a page near the beginning.

“For example, if I would say this to you-“ Vetinari said. “As far as I understand it, it is an offer to buy his new sweetheart a bun and some coffee.”

Borrowed slang, no doubt strange on his tongue. But something that he’d learned to use.

Vetinari smiled like a man that had spent many long years studying linguistics and languages, as well as one that liked his crosswords.

“At nineteen, in broad daylight, in your fine gentleperson clothing?” Vimes asked, taking the paperback. “No wonder they ran away to get married.”

“Do tell.”

“It’s not like this sort of thing didn’t happen all the time,” Vimes said, sinking his fork through the meringue and the lemon filling. “But it was quiet and secretive and consisted, as far as I understand it, mostly of snogging in alleyways and locked rooms before parting. Nothing public, nothing done where anyone could see you. They aren’t doing that. People can see how much in love they are. Hear it too, most of what our watchman friend is saying is just rather shy flirtatious things.”

“I see,” Vetinari said, taking a sip of Vimes’s coffee.

“His ex keeps telling him to be careful,” Vimes said, flipping to another page and pointing. And then again. “To break it off with his new boyfriend before it’s too late.”

“Their behavior appears to be rather harmless,” Vetinari said, leaning back in his seat with a look in his eye that told Vimes that he was going to ask for painstaking translations. “They don’t do much more than kiss-“

“You remember what happened, the night we met?” Vimes asked. “How the Sergeant Castle reacted when I did nothing more than look at you?”

An expression flickered across Vetinari’s face, there and gone again like a crocodile in the water. It spoke of utter silence in the room when he’d stood up after Castle’s lawyer had remarked that said dashing person on the rooftop would not be able to bear witness to what had occurred and therefore there was no need to consider the matter of the beating as more than a scuffle between coworkers. And the horror on the lawyer’s face when he’d declared that he was, in fact, able to talk about that night.

The lawyer had stood in front of the lord of the city, looking as if the world was crumbling.

“I do,” he said. “I remember.”

“There is a reason for why they are talking like that,” Vimes said. “Instead of using plain speech, so to speak.”

Vetinari hummed.

“This isn’t the Ankh-Morpork that it is now, when you are in charge,” Vimes continued, eating his pie. “Not that people didn’t marry whoever they liked, back when we were young and to hell with everyone else. But there were many senior watchmen with views like his, and many families too. They are being reckless, behaving in that way.”

“And yet,” Vetinari said, accepting his cup of coffee from the waitress with a nod. “This is what we did, in the alternative timeline that you visited.”

He gave Vimes a tiny, victorious smile. The engagement ring on his finger gleamed in the sun that streaked across the table.

“Well, we were lucky,” Vimes said, as Vetinari drank his coffee. “We are lucky.”

“I think that they’ll achieve their happy ending in the final volume,” Vetinari said, brazenly stealing a forkful of Vimes’s pie. Vimes did not arrest him for theft, mostly because the man could get out of handcuffs in record time and because he would enjoy it far too much.

“Or what?” Vimes asked. “You’ll riot?”

“We’ll rewrite it in action, in any case,” Vetinari said. “My aunt is in town and as I understand it, will be having a meeting with Sybil about the wedding.”

“You and Sybil are the big picture people on this team,” Vimes said, shaking his head. “I’m just going to show up with flowers and rings and be kissed.”

“As it should be,” Vetinari said, finishing his coffee and standing up. “Now, I’ll need to borrow your arm if I’m going to make it back to my carriage-“

“I’m assuming that you are not going to slice it off?” Vimes said, offering it. “I’m rather attached to it.”

They paid for their coffee and Vimes’s pie, Vetinari put a wad of stamps into the tip jar. And there was a certain delight in walking the short distance to the carriage arm-in-arm, because it was a reality that they had carved out for themselves, so far away from what had once been possible.

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a drabble. Oh well.


End file.
